The Aftermath: What happened?
by phoenixamber
Summary: Who really killed Mr. Ewell? What happens when Jem wakes up? What happens after the story, To kill a mockingbird, ends? This is the 'sequel' to it. Please read and review!


The Next Morning

"Jem? Jem, can you hear me?" Jem blinked a few times and Atticus's worried face came into focus. In the background, he could see the floor basking in the bright rays of the morning Sun and could almost feel the warmth he longed for in his heart.

"Where am I?" Jem asked his voice thick with sleep. He was hurting everywhere. He had a vague memory of what had happened the night before. He tried sitting up, but his arm was too heavy and could not support him. He could not lift it. Being a mere young teenager, he was confused and panicked.

"Stay down, Jem. You and Scout were attacked by Mr. Ewell. You are injured and your body needs to rest after such an eventful night," Atticus warned. Jem could only slightly feel Atticus's hand applying ample force to keep him down, yet was careful to remain gentle so as not to aggravate Jem's injuries. Something snapped and he could now remember.

"Atticus," Jem's voice had a note of panic and emergency in it. "Where's Scout? Is she alright? I'm so sorry, Atticus, Mr. Ewell just sneaked up on us….Did Mr. Heck manage to capture him?" He would have gone on without pausing for breath had Atticus not held up his hand and stopped Jem's questions from coming at him like a rocket with a grave and somber expression on his face.

"Jem, just have some rest, you hear me? Scout's alright; it's fortunate she had her ham costume on, or she could have been worse. The costume protected her some. And," Atticus paused for breath, seeming unable to continue. He then continued in a soft, calming voice. "Bob Ewell is dead, Jem. Heck says he fell on his knife..." Atticus faltered, looking unconvinced. Jem knew at once what he was thinking. He got restless once more.

"Atticus, sir, I swear it wasn't me. I don't know what happened, it was all a blur but all I was tryin' to do was to get Mr. Ewell off Scout. I swear I didn't kill him, sir, please believe me. I wouldn't kill anyone," Jem pleaded. Atticus merely sighed.

"We'll see," He said, and uneasily shifted his weight from the right foot to his left sub-consciously, but his mouth was drawn into a grim, determined line. "I'll get to the bottom of this." He frowned and concentrated for a moment.

"Jem," Atticus began slowly. "Did you see anyone coming to save you? Did he pick you up? What did he do before that?" Jem was confused. He tried to remember what had happened before he passed out and after his struggle with Mr. Ewell. Had someone intervened? A blurry image came to his mind- One of a worried face he had never seen before, yet it all seemed so familiar, bending over him. And before that… that same 'familiar' stranger's back turned to him, dragging Mr. Ewell off him. They had exchanged a couple of blows –although Mr. Ewell was staggering, thus his blows had not landed exactly where he had intended them to- and suddenly that same stranger was bending over him, looking at him curiously. As the sudden realization hit him, he gasped.

"Atticus, that man… was Boo Radley here?" Atticus frowned.

"Mr. Radley, Jem. Really, why do you two call him Boo Radley?" He mused. "And yes, Mr. Radley saved you, although we're not sure what exactly happened-which is what we're trying to find out." Atticus stopped and polished his glasses. He began to get up.

"Have some rest, Jem, and think about what happened last night only when you're well enough and in the mood to do so. Otherwise, please don't stress yourself out," Jem could have sworn he saw a sudden look of fear flit across Atticus's lined and tired face. He wondered what it meant, but in that instant Scout burst in through his room door and rushed past Atticus, who had obviously not been expecting this. She was beaming.

"Jem! Thank goodness you're awake! We shouldn't have taken the shortcut. Mr. Ewell could'a killed us! I was so scared you wouldn't be alright," Scout flung herself onto Jem. Jem was pleasantly surprised. He had never seen Scout that emotional before. Then again, Scout had always been tough and was not one to cry easily.

"Hey," Jem laughed. "Hold yourself before you really crush me to death," Jem pushed Scout away gently and looked at her. He smiled to himself. If Bob Ewell had even dared to harm a strand of hair on her, Jem would have marched right up to his house and confronted Mr. Ewell. He was glad that his little sister was alright. Suddenly, he remembered that Mr. Ewell was dead and his face fell slightly.

Scout noticed this too, and she must have been thinking the same thing, for she put a hand on Jem's gently and squeezed it. She didn't say anything, but Jem knew what she was conveying to him. Jem reveled in the sight of his sister, taking in as much as he could before anything bad could happen to them. She had suddenly grown so mature overnight. Why had he not paid as much attention to her before as he did to himself? He made a mental note to take more notice and care more for his beloved little sister in the future. His mind began to wonder. What he would really do as a big brother for her after he got better…

"Jem?" Scout broke the peaceful silence. Atticus had gone out long ago. Jem snapped out of his reverie and blinked.

"Yes?"

"It's time for lunch. I'll bring lunch up for you, on one condition," said Scout playfully.

"What?" Scout thought for a while.

"I'll think of a favour for you to do later," was all she said before getting up and running through the door again. Jem smiled as he heard her banging her way downstairs noisily. He laid back and rested, trying to think of what had happened the night before. Did Mr. Ewell really stumble and fall on his own knife, as Atticus claimed Mr. Heck Tate had said, or had it been someone else's doing? Then again, from what Atticus demonstrated earlier on, he didn't see how anyone else could place the knife pointing it up so neatly at Mr. Ewell's belly button in the split second before Mr. Ewell went down, still in his drunken stupor. Jem sighed. Somehow a nagging feeling told him that there was more to it than met the eye. He remembered his own promise earlier on to be a big brother. He thought he could change his plans, and become detective _and _big brother at the same time.

The door burst open and Scout stumbled in, the soup sloshing soundlessly. The bad thing was, she had been holding it up close to her face and some soup sloshed up into her nostrils. She was surprised and as the realization what had just happened dawned on her, she started snorting and coughing into the soup, seemingly forgetting that she was, indeed, still holding it. Jem didn't know whether to frown or to laugh. He made a sort of strangled noise in his throat and Scout looked up from her snorting. She suddenly realized that she had been snorting into her brother's soup and looked embarrassed, a tint of blush creeping up her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, I'll get you another one," she mumbled, clearly regretting that she had acted before thinking.

"It's alright, I'll do without soup. Just get me a cup of water, please," Jem added hastily as an afterthought. Scout looked surprised.

"Jem, has a night of being injured changed you into a more polite person? If so, then I wish you could have this more often!" she teased. Suddenly, she realized what she had just said and bit her lip. Jem knew she was feeling guilty.

"Just make sure you don't mean your words," he teased her, laughing gently, the deep resonant sounding voice of a grown up man making itself apparent in his words and laugh. She blushed again, and turned on her heels.

Jem could hear her footsteps pounding down the stairs again and thought that had he not known better, he would have thought the roof was falling in. He looked at the soup and made a sick, disgusted face at it. Urgh, he thought, I'm sick and all I get is vegetable soup. Good thing Scout pardoned me from drinking it.

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards again. He remembered the last time he had been down with fever and Scout had brought him soup, too.

flashback

"Hey, Jem! Rise and shine! I brought you breakfast!" Jem merely groaned and rolled over.

"Jem, I'm coming up right now. You best be sitting straight up when I get in!" Scout yelled. Jem didn't feel like it but forced himself to open his eyes and struggled to sit up. In that instant, the door banged open, swinging threateningly on its hinges to slam shut in the face of the next person. He squinted and saw Scout standing cheerily in the doorway. She brushed past him and ignored the soup which had spilled onto the floor when all of a sudden, ---

"Oomph," was all that Jem heard before he heard a loud thump below him and looked down to see Scout lying on the floor, the soup bowl covering her face. Jem laughed until he had stitch and he had to clutch his sides and tears were rolling down his face. It really was a comical sight, and was made more so when Jem, caught up in his rolling, didn't see where he was going and ----

"Ouch!" Jem yelled. He had rolled over the edge of the bed and fallen onto the floorboard. He could feel a large bump rising already. Atticus had heard the commotion downstairs and rushed upstairs to see what was happening. When he reached, the door, he paused and stared, dumbfounded, at the scene before him, before laughing out loud himself. It was a comical sight alright. Scout was lying flat on the floor with a soup bowl on her and Jem was trying to nurse his bottom while still in uncontrollable laughter and Atticus standing in the doorway and wiping his tears away, his hands shaky with laughter.

End of flashback

Jem smiled to himself. That certainly was one memory worth keeping and looking back on. He could hear light, careful footsteps on the stairs now and knew that Scout was coming up and determined to make her trip a smooth one with no spills, trips nor snorting. Scout gently pushed open the door, her eyes still on the cup which she was holding in her right hand, her stable hand, to prevent too much shaking. There was a smirk on her face and she seemed pleased with herself.

"There," said Scout, placing the cup ever so carefully on the bedside table, delighted with this simple accomplishment. "No spills, trips nor snorting, for that matter. Jem, I've got my New Year's resolution ready (I know its not New Year's yet," she continued, as Jem opened his mouth to point it out. He quickly shut his mouth again.) - I resolve to be more careful next year and not let my hastiness and carelessness get in my way," she concluded, drawing herself up and seemingly proud of her resolution. Jem smirked but didn't dare tell her that this had already been her resolution for two years in a row now.

"You know," said Jem suddenly, "I had a weird dream last night." Here he paused dramatically and cocked his head to one side, looking at Scout with an amused twinkle in his eye, receiving a quizzical look in reply. "I dreamed that someone who looked like Scout, who sounded like Scout, who smelled like Scout, too- crying over me and bending down to kiss me on my cheek. And if I remember correctly," he added, as a blush crept up Scout's cheeks, making her look like it was unusually hot. "That same 'Scout' girl promised me that the first boy she kissed -including her brother, excluding her father- would be not till 12. If she did kiss before that, she would do any dare given to her by her darling brother." Jem couldn't resist smirking. He had been smirking a lot since he woke up this morning, he noticed.

Scout just continued turning from her normal light brown face to red in the cheeks faster than you could say, "You're clearly embarrassed." And it wasn't about to stop, either. In the next few moments, her face paled again, white as a sheet. This was the first time Jem had seen someone-especially Scout- turn white with embarrassment. It was quite amusing. He smirked again -wait, did he smirk _again_? Oh no, he had lost count of his smirks. Deep inside, Jem felt his own New Year's resolution bubbling its way up to the surface.

"Whoa there, we have some new colours for the rainbow, it seems," Jem smirked- no, _grinned _widely. Oh no, he thought. Quite a reasonable thought, too. For Scout turned purple with anger at Jem's remark. Purple? He thought. Never before have I seen anyone turn purple when they're angry.

"Jem, I swear," Scout started, her chest heaving up and down dramatically, and her words were hard to make out for she was overwhelmed with anger. "I swear the next time you're sick, I'm not gonna bring any food in for you. Never!" she emphasised. Jem grinned. Deep down, both he and Scout knew, however, that she didn't mean it. It would only take Jem to flash a winsome smile at her and plead in a sincere voice to move Scout enough to get up and fetch him his meals with only a grunt. A disgruntled and defeated grunt.

Jem decided to think up of a dare for Scout later. He didn't want to let her off easily and wanted it to be a funny one, too. He was getting old-no, growing up (He hated the sound of getting older)- and worried that his humour was leaving him.

The siblings heard footsteps coming up the stairs and knew that they were not his father's weary, almost-dragging ones. Instead they were light and dainty, like a woman's. Jem guessed instantly that the person could be none other than Aunt Alexandra. Sure enough, moments later the door pushed open and his aunt peeked in. She opened it wider when she saw that he was awake with Scout seated calmly-although still looking enraged- by his bedside.

Aunt Alexandra walked in stiffly, her footsteps brisk yet light, towards Jem's bedside table where she crinkled her nose slightly at Jem's vegetable soup. Although it's murky colour (Aunt Alexandra had not wanted to add sugar or sweetening) did not look any more unappealing than when Scout brought it up, the event of Scout snorting into it must have formed a mental picture in her mind which made the soup seem more disgusting to her than it really was. She went over to check on Jem, who was looking at her pleasantly.

"Hey Auntie," smiled Jem. Scout looked at him, hardly daring to believe what Jem just did. Jem had never greeted Aunt Alexandra unless she spoke to him first. Aunt Alexandra merely frowned.

"How are you this morning? Don't move your arm too much or stress it. It might aggravate the injury," she snapped, as Jem attempted to flex his injured arm.

"I'm fine, Auntie, really," Jem attempted to assure her quickly. He sneaked a quick glance at the breakfast tray on the bedside table. He wasn't really hungry. Later, when his stomach grumbled loudly, would be the signal for him to eat. It was always the signal for him to eat. It had been, anyway. Not until Jem was determined to join the school basketball team did he start eating when he felt like it, and only then it was still bananas and oranges and other fruit.

Aunt Alexandra bent down and held the soup bowl in her steady hands. It was held slightly away from her and Scout had a hard time trying not to grin, knowing that it was her 'snort' that Aunt Alexandra was looking at it so disgustingly, as if she was about to retch any moment. She took a deep, calming breath and slowly walked out of the door, careful not to spill a single drop of the soup. Jem and Scout watched her retreating figure. They were grinning like cheshire cats. Although Aunt Alexandra's back was facing them, they knew that she was still leaning as faraway from the soup as was possible without tripping or causing any more incidents.

"So, you still got a vendetta against Mr. Ewell?" Jem asked casually, trying to get Scout to talk to him. He felt Scout tense a little at the mention of Mr. Ewell's name.

"Don't mention him. If it wasn't for Boo, we would have been killed, Jem. What's a vendetta, anyway?"

"It means a grudge against someone," He answered, attempting to look modest that he was teaching Scout one thing which she didn't know. Scout merely gave a stiff nod. Jem suddenly dropped his pretense and frowned. "Scout, I don't want you to go out and destroy his house because Mr. Ewell attacked us. I don't know how to say it, Scout, but I've been thinking of what Atticus has been saying and trying to make us understand. Perhaps when you've grown to my age, maybe you will begin to understand something. And I want you to promise you will not go after Mayella Ewell or any of the other kids," said Jem in a serious tone. Scout looked at him, confused, for a few moments, and sighed resignedly.

"I promise," she muttered, keeping her gaze on the floor, although her voice sounded hesitant and unconvincing. Jem wasn't fooled.

"Look at me, Scout. I'm serious, you hear? Promise not to go after his children. God knows how bad they must be feeling already," insisted Jem. Scout slowly turned her head up and looked at him. Jem thought he saw a tinge of understanding in her eyes which was overruled by hatred and anger, but to his relief Scout gave a firm nod. Jem relaxed. He knew Scout would honour her word.

"So," Scout began hesitantly, apparently trying to break through the serious atmosphere surrounding them, "What's my...What am I supposed to do?" Her voice trailed off. She returned to look at the ground or fidgeting uneasily and playing with her fingers. Jem sensed that she was determined not to look at him.

"Let me think," said Jem slowly and acted as if he was in deep thought. An evil grin began to creep its way across his face. Scout sneaked a peek at Jem and her heart began to race. She recgonized that grin anywhere. It was the same grin Jem had plastered on his face when he had dared her to get into the wheel. She turned her gaze towards the floor again and hoped against hope that Jem would not make her do anything concerning the Radleys. Ever since her encounter with Boo Radley, Scout had become less curious and afraid of him but she did not want to go straight up to the front door and knock on it, daring him to come out.

Jem snapped his fingers. A smug grin replaced the evil grin moments before.

"Got it," said Jem confidently. "I want you to go up to the Radley front door and ask Boo Radley when his birthday is and what he wants for his birthday."

Scout scowled at Jem fiercely. "I see no reason why I should bother him when he is alright living in there." Jem merely smirked.

"I thought you were braver than this. Unless Atticus was telling me a fib of how you walked the 'monstrous' Boo Radley to his own front door," Jem trailed off dramatically. His words had the predicted effect on Scout. She stood up hastily and clenched her fists.

"I'm not scared and Atticus doesn't tell fibs, you know that!" Scout snapped at Jem. "In fact, if you weren't lying here in bed and were able to watch me do it, I would go do that right now!" she declared through gritted teeth and stomped her foot a little to indicate that she meant it, although her eyes said otherwise.

Jem smirked-no, _grinned _again. He knew he had the perfect dare for her. Unless Boo wasn't a human, and no matter how much he wanted to stay inside, he would at least have some longing to visit the outside world-or at least, get out of his house and step foot onto the streets of old Maycomb. He shook his head.

"Just admit you're afraid," he sneered at her. Scout's eyes widened shock and anger.

"Jem! I'm not afraid, I just think Boo should be left to his own devices and we should respect his privacy, you know that," said Scout in an annoyed and huffy tone.

"Fine," Jem conceded. His stomach gave a low rumble indicating that it was hungy. He leaned over and proceeded to eat his sandwich. Out of the corner of his eye, Jem noticed Scout squirming uncomfortably.

"Jem," began Scout hesitantly. Jem looked up. "Huh?"

"About last night, thank you," Scout's voice was barely above a whisper. "If you hadn't saved me, your arm wouldn't have been broken." Jem frowned.

"Scout, think of it this way," said Jem firmly, shaking his head. "I'm your elder brother. If I hadn't rescued you, you could have been dead. And," Jem added, a twinkle in his eye, "there would be no Scout to serve me breakfast or entertain me."

Scout's relieved expression showed that this was going better than she expected. "In any case, I want to thank you," Scout confided in a clearer and louder tone than before.

"You're welcome. Just don't brood on it anymore. I did what I had to do," said Jem confidently, turning back to his half-eaten ham sandwich, signaling that this conversation topic was over and closed.

Just then, a knock sounded on the bedroom door and Atticus's head appeared round it. Jem and Scout looked up instantly and saw that their father's face was lined with worry and age. He looked tired and worn out. They both guessed instantly that he had gone up to Mr. Tate's to discuss Mr. Ewell's case with him. They looked up at Atticus expectantly and didn't say anything.

"Am I welcome to enter?" Atticus grinned wryly. "I'm in a rather awkward position here." Jem suddenly remembered his manners and a small, embarrassed smile appear on his face.

"Of course, sir. I was just having breakfast while chatting with Scout. Nothing too important to be interrupted," said Jem dismissively. Atticus took the hint and entered. He closed the door and walked calmly towards Jem's bed, seating himself on one of the chairs at Jem's bedside. He slowly took out off his glasses and produced his handkerchief from his pocket. Atticus then proceeded to polish his glasses before putting them back on and keeping his handkerchief, a sign that he wasn't sitting in Jem's room by coincidence.

"How are you feeling, Jem?" Atticus asked, trying to start some conversation.

"Fine, Atticus, you asked me that this morning," said Jem in between mouthfuls of his ham sandwich. Scout frowned slightly at Jem's behaviour, indicating her disapproval of his disgusting actions, but otherwise didn't move. Jem ignored her. "Atticus, just what do you want to say? I promise, I wasn't the one who killed Mr. Ewell, sir," Jem had forgotten about his sandwich and was staring at Atticus with a frightened look in his eyes and the worry showed so plainly on his face. Atticus sighed and shook his head.

"Calm down, Jem, remember the rule of justice. You're innocent unless proven otherwise; in this case, guilty. This means that in the eyes of law, you haven't committed any murder and therefore are not responsible for Mr. Ewell's death. That is, of course, until someone can find incriminating evidence against you," Atticus fixed Jem with a stern gaze for a moment before sub-consciously removing his glasses and polishing them again. He sighed once again before putting them back on.

"You see, Jem," said Atticus in a matter-of-fact tone. He slipped the handkerchief back into his pocket. "I know that you are a mature boy and all, but I think it's better that you make an appearance in court only when necessary. I'm not going to handle your case, but it's more likely that the jury will lean more towards the adult than a child. I hope there won't even be a case against you," Atticus added, finally voicing his worry.

Jem bit his lip. He raised his head slowly and looked fearfully at Atticus. The tension in the room was growing and no one seemed to notice the remaining tiny portion of the ham sandwich Jem was holding.

"Atticus, you don't believe me, do you? You think I'm going to be convicted of the murder of Mr. Ewell. That's why you aren't going to handle this case. You can't handle it if you already have no faith in your client," said Jem slowly, letting his gaze linger weakly on Atticus.

Atticus didn't rebut the accusations. Neither did he answer directly. He merely sighed again.

"I never said anything. I just think there are a few loopholes in Heck's conclusion of what happened but which I can't point my finger at. The knife wouldn't have been pointing at him at any given time. If it was, the wrist would have been twisted at an odd angle, and why should Mr. Ewell twist his wrist when he was aiming for you? I'm sorry, Jem, but you were the only person there," Atticus explained, never breaking his gaze on Jem. Jem couldn't bear it and looked down at his almost-finished sandwich.

"But Atticus, Boo Radley was there too," protested Scout mildly. Atticus turned to her. Her eyes were turning red and she was fighting hard to control the tears in her eyes. Even Atticus looked more weary and tired than usual.

"I know, but no one really knows anything about him, do they? And he saved Jem. He could have found Jem after the fight," said Atticus mutely. He looked at Jem, who hadn't moved from his last position. "Nothing has been proven as yet, Jem. I suggest you take a rest and I'll try to find out what really happened, if possible." Atticus sighed for the fourth time and slowly got up. He was at the door in a few heavy strides and put his hand on the knob. He turned around.

"And remember my advice, Jem. It would do well to just forget it and rest and only think about it when you're ready," said Atticus. He turned around and opened the door, left the room and closed the door behind him silently. Neither Jem nor Scout moved, but they both knew that the other was listening to Atticus's footsteps on the stairs.

Jem was the first one to break the growing tension between them.

"What are you doing this afternoon, Scout?" Scout hesitated.

"I didn't really think about it. I'll go and write a letter to Dill," said Scout and she slowly got up.

After the door connecting their rooms shut behind her, Jem let a small sigh escape him and stared at his remaining breakfast miserably. How was he going to prove to Atticus and the jury that he was innocent? He felt as if his whole world had crumbled. He couldn't go to jail. Neither could he lose Atticus's faith in him. If he was convicted, what would the world think of Atticus? They had just come out of an extremely rough patch concerning Atticus defending Tom.

The more he thought about it, the more frustrated Jem became. After a few moments, he felt a small tear finding its way out of his right eye. The right eye had to start first. Jem squeezed his eyes shut and wiped away the tear. He wasn't going to crumble, not now.

XXX

Scout sat on the swing by herself, her head bowed in thinking. She sighed and picked up a the dusty pen set on her lap. Bending low, she slowly began her letter to Dill with her tongue between her teeth as she wrote.

_Dear Dill, _she began, but cancelled it out. Dill was a boy. Surely girls didn't address boys this way. Then again, Dill was going to be her future-husband, or at least she hoped. She tried again.

_Hey Dill,_

_How are things over there? I know you just went back not too long ago, but by the time this letter reaches I bet you will be missing me already, because I am beginning to miss you now. Can't wait for your next holiday to come so you can visit Jem and I._

_Mr. Ewell took action against us last night, Dill. He attacked Jem and I while we were making our way home. There was someone following us as we came out of the high school. We were under a tree and then Mr. Ewell just attacked us. It was so horrible. Jem's arm is broken and Mr. Ewell is dead. Many think that Jem killed Mr. Ewell, Dill. I know Jem wouldn't. I was there. I heard Jem scream in pain when Mr. Ewell broke his arm. He couldn't have enough strength left in him to kill Mr. Ewell._

_Oh, I'm so worried. What should I do, Dill? It's lucky Boo Radley stepped in and interfered, or Jem could have been killed by a drunk Mr. Ewell. _

_Hope you write back soon. _

_Yours,_

_Scout Finch_

There. It was a short letter. Short, but informative and it wouldn't appear to anyone reading that either Scout or Jem was crumbling inside, yet it had a sort of pleading tone in it. She folded it and slipped it into the plain white envelope which she had already stuck a stamp on.

The door opened and shut again. Scout looked up and saw Atticus stepping out. He was dressed and holding a briefcase. Scout jumped up from her seat.

"Atticus, are you going to meet Mr. Tate again? Could I walk with you? I want to post a letter to Dill," said Scout animatedly, waving the envelope about to catch Atticus's attention. Atticus blinked and glanced at the envelope fluttering gently in the slight breeze. He nodded and walked out into the street, waiting for her to catch up. Scout took the hint and ran after him.

There was silence for a few moments and the tension between them could have been sliced through with a knife. Scout tried to put a spring in her step, but failing miserably, finally resorted to walking as quickly as possible and then turning around to wait for Atticus.

"Are you trying to catch the postman or are you feeling too active today?" laughed Atticus. Scout sighed.

"Atticus, I know Jem didn't kill Bob Ewell. He isn't going to be convicted, is he?" said Scout pleadingly.

"Mr. Ewell, Scout. Of course, one doesn't know for sure. I thought we already went over this in Jem's room," said Atticus with a tiny trace of impatience and weariness in his voice. Scout knew it was pointless and stayed silent.

"Just try not to worry about Jem, won't you? Ah, here's the post office. Well, I best be moving on. See you, Scout," said Atticus casually. His looked at her sternly. "Remember, don't believe what you hear, alright Scout?" Scout nodded and turned into the post office, waving goodbye to Atticus.

A few minutes later, Scout skipped out of the office, enjoying the wind in her face and surroundings. She rounded the corner, not really noticing, and bumped into someone rather violently. She fell into a sitting position on the pavement. A hand reached out in front of her and Scout accepted it gratefully, looking up at the person she had so carelessly bumped into. Scout gasped. For standing in front of her was none other than Mayella Ewell. Mayella was rather bruised and her cheeks were slightly sunken, but she still looked alive–although not well- nonetheless. Mayella blushed slightly but helped Scout up.

"We need to talk," said Mayella simply, avoiding Scout's eyes.

_A/N: Omigosh, longest chapter I ever wrote! 5,443 words! Although I know of many superb authors who write longer AND better. I'm a loser at injecting humour into my stories, and I apologize. But this story definitely isn't going to be as boring as this first chapter, I hope. –frowns doubtfully- But this is the beginning of a story, and all stories need set-ups, right? This was just to give you, the reader, an impression or mental picture of the current situation to start us off, but the other chapters will be different!! Don't lose faith in me, I've got the story planned out…and I love cliffys at the ending. Still debating whether I should insert an original character… Also, I'm starting Secondary School, and I'm taking….a CCA, a third lang., a piano lesson, and SCHOOL-with tons of homework. So I won't have time to work on this and my other fanfics. This is a…warning? Ok, I shan't bore you with a long authors note. Please just drop me a review. I don't mind flames but I'm always welcome to compliments. ___

_Reminder: I don't have much time, and I don't make no promises about the next update or the plot of the story. –evil grin- _


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